ion of the Gulf
of Finland, the glittering waters of the Neva are alive with various
kinds of shipping--merchant vessels from all parts of the world;
fishing smacks from Finland and Riga; lumber vessels from Tornea;
wood-boats from the interior; Russian and Prussian steamers;
row-boats, skiffs, and fancy colored canoes, with crews and passengers
representing many nations of the earth, are in perpetual motion; and
while the sight is bewildered by the variety of moving objects, the
ears are confounded by the strange medley of languages.

Through this confused web of obstacles, the little steamer in which I
had taken passage worked her way cautiously and systematically,
catching a rope here and there for a sudden swing to the right or to
the left, stopping and backing from time to time, and feeling with her
nose for the narrow channels of the river, till she was fairly out of
danger, when, with a blast of the whistle and a heavy pressure of
steam, she dashed forth into the open waters of the gulf.

As we gradually receded, I turned to take a last look at the mighty
Venice of the North. The gold-covered domes of the churches, rising
high above the massive ranges of palaces, were glittering brilliantly
in the sunlight; the variegated shipping of the Neva was growing dim
in the distance; the masses of foliage that crowned the islands were
of tropical luxuriance, and the whole city, with its palaces,
fortifications, and churches, seemed to rest upon the surface of the
waters. It was a sight not soon to be forgotten. I turned toward the
dark and stern fortresses of Cronstadt, now breaking in strong outline
through the golden haze of the morning, and thought of the grim old
Czar who had thus battled with Nature, and planted a mighty city in
the wilderness; and thus musing, sighed to think that such a man
should have lacked the warmth divine which sheds the only true and
enduring lustre upon human greatness.

After the usual detention at Cronstadt for the examination of
passports, the steamer once more started on her way, and in a few
hours nothing was in sight save the shores of the gulf dim on the
horizon, and the sails of distant vessels looming up in the haze.

I now, for the first time, had leisure to look at my
fellow-passengers.

A Russian steamer during the pleasure season is a floating Babel.
Here, within the limits of a few dozen feet, were the representatives
of almost every nation from the Arctic circle to the t